


there’s still fire in the darkness

by MANIAvinyl



Category: Phan, Phandom, dan and phil
Genre: Anxiety, Crying, Depressed Dan Howell, Depression, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt, Hurt Dan Howell, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-25 22:33:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16669606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MANIAvinyl/pseuds/MANIAvinyl
Summary: Dan wasn’t supposed to make it past age 18. The only reason he’s still here is because of Phil Lester, the only guiding light, the only true heart of gold. Sometimes he starts to question if he even deserves Phil at all.Depression is a monster. It feeds off of fear and sucks the light out of eyes once bright with wonder. Phil’s willing to fight the war on love for the two of them, he just wished he didn’t have to.





	there’s still fire in the darkness

**Author's Note:**

> Title’s from a rlly cool song El Buho by Blanco White. Thanks for reading and enjoy!

Some days, he could just tell. From the minute he wakes up, he can just tell that something’s off. Like the entire world was gray, and nothing was interesting, and he would rather stay in bed, asleep or not, than see the world through this kind of gray sepia lens. 

His phone alarm went off and he tried to ignore it, tried to roll over but realized he didn’t even have the motivation to do that. So he just waited.

After a while the alarm turned off, and Dan shut his eyes again. 

“Dan.”

His eyes shot back open, and he rolled over onto his back.

“Hello, Phil.”

“You okay? You alive?” Concern laced his voice— real concern.

“Maybe,” Dan murmured. “Now leave me alone.”

“You have to pick up your meds,” Phil told him. “That’s what your phone alarm said. Dan, it’s two in the afternoon.”

A bitter smile ghosted his lips. Damn, it was late.

—

He returned from the pharmacy and the house was empty. The world outside was just as gray as it felt inside Dan’s head— but it was okay... like everything matched up.

He put the bag on the counter, and watched as it tipped over, the two orange bottles of pills rolling onto the granite, making a sound that felt far too loud. He watched them as they came to a stop, but didn’t seem to have the energy to draw his eyes away. So, again, he just waited. For what, he didn’t quite know.

It’s funny, he thought. That inside these bottles were chemicals, made by a factory and prescribed by doctors, to keep him alive. The dope, the benzos, the sertraline, or whatever the hell these pills had in them, it was were there just so that he could make it through the day. It was fucking sad.

When Phil got home, after only a short trip to the camera shop, Dan was still standing there.

Phil sighed, setting his new lens on the counter. 

“What are you doing?” he asked, voice gentle. 

“I don’t know,” Dan replied, blank. 

“Well, come here. We can watch, um, Iron Man again, or something. You like Iron Man, right?”

Dan realized that Phil sounded sad.

So then there was anger, coming from deep within Dan, and it took him a minute to completely realize the source. He was angry because this was Phil. The only good person in the universe— the only one with a true heart of gold, the only gentle, old soul left on earth. He was here, watching over Dan because he couldn’t get his own fucking head screwed on right. He was here, upset over a fuck-up that shouldn’t have even made it past 18. 

Oddly enough, that thought alone made him feel something, which was so much more than before. He didn’t care what kind of feeling, but he moved towards it, like a beacon of light guiding him back to the land of the living. 

“Please don’t cry, Dan,” Phil whispered. “Please don’t cry. It’s okay.”

Dan felt as if he were being torn apart. By one, his desire to feel something real— something more than nothing, and two, his love for Phil and the desperation to be okay again. Okay for Phil, and only Phil. 

He couldn’t speak. Not through the lump that had grown in the back of his throat, or the salty tears, or anything. So he only stared, though blurry eyes, at Phil as he watched Dan splinter. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” Phil whispered again, and this time Dan could hear desperation. The voice in his head shouted at him: _Pull yourself together._

“I’m sorry,” Dan choked, finally, wiping his eyes with his shirt sleeve. “I— I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Phil brought his hand up, brushing away Dan’s tears with his thumb. 

But Dan pushed him away, and turned around. Cold. God, everything was cold, and gray. Everything but his love for Phil. 

But that wasn’t fair. Not to Phil.

“I can’t be here anymore,” Dan whispered, not turning around. His eyes were shut.

“Dan, what are you on about?” There is was again, the quiet desperation.

“I just— I— I just...” he felt the sting of tears once again, and he forced himself to fight it.

“Do I need to call someone?” Phil demanded, but still, it was gentle. Dan didn’t know how he did it.

“No, just... just let me go.” His heart was pounding. “Just for now.”

That made sense, right? He just needed to get out of the house, get away from Phil because it isn’t fair to him, that he has to see him like this. 

So he moved to the hallway, towards the front door. Something in his mind was whirling, but all he could feel was a steady, thrumming, dull pain. Everything was off. Everything was not right. He should’ve just stayed in bed.

“No.” Phil’s voice was quiet, but firm. 

“What?” Dan stared, confused. He was an adult, and he could go where he wanted to; he knew Phil knew this. 

“I’m not letting you go. Not like this.” Phil stood in front, blocking his way.

Dan wiped his face again. “Stop it, Phil.”

“I don’t know what you’re gonna do out there,” Phil said softly. “Stay here.”

“No.”

“Dan, you’re not okay. You’re— you know that, right?”

That crushed Dan. Crushed like a leaf.

Phil didn’t deserve this. Phil deserved only joy, and Dan was not that. 

Phil deserved the world and more.

“I know,” Dan breathed. He felt weak, all of a sudden, like something was weighing him down. 

“So I can’t let you leave.” Phil looked calm, and that was soothing. “Not right now.”

“I don’t want to die.” It was blunt, and he could feel Phil stiffen.

“Okay.” He swallowed. “Still, I can’t— can’t let you go right now.“

After a while of standing there, frozen by uncertainty and doubt, all huddled in the dark corners of his head, Dan let out a shaky breath. “I need a drink,” he whispered, moving away from Phil and back into the kitchen. Everything still felt off, and even his own voice in his ears sounded different. He reached for a bottle, the all-glass one with the fancy cap, the one they kept only for special occasions. Dan decided that this was a special occasion.

“Fine,” Phil murmured, trailing after. He watched as Dan filled his own glass. 

“You want any?” Dan asked, voice rough.

Hesitation. “Sure.”

“On the rocks?”

“Fine.”

“You’re angry at me.” It sounded detached.

“I’m not angry.”

Dan handed Phil his glass, and took a sip of his own. 

“You are.”

“No, Dan,” Phil said. “I’m scared. There’s a difference.”

Dan went silent after that. He tipped his glass so the rest of the whiskey poured down his throat, then set it back down. His heart hammered in his chest.

“You don’t deserve this,” Dan whispered finally, wiping his nose. “Look, I’m sorry.”

“Deserve what?”

“I don’t know. You’re, like, an angel on earth.” Dan looked up, at Phil’s big, sad eyes, and almost laughed. This was so fucking sad. “And I’m just a mess.”

“That’s okay.” But the way he said it, with all the gentleness in the world alongside a sort of collective understanding, it warmed something in Dan’s heart, something that had been cold for a long, long time. 

Dan realized suddenly that his love for Phil was so strong, so fierce, that it almost scared him. It was something Dan never even knew could’ve existed. But that love was also what was driving them apart. 

“It’s not okay,” Dan whispered, shaking his head. He was leaning on the counter for support because he wasn’t quite sure he had the strength to stand on his own. “I’m not okay. And you’re not okay when I’m not okay, and I just... I just want you to be okay, always.”

“That might just be the most romantic thing you’ve ever said.”

Dan laughed then, still broken and sad, but still a laugh. “Oh, shut up.”

Phil went silent afterwards, though. He was staring at the alcohol, filled halfway, and Dan noticed that this is how he looked when he thought no one was watching. It was a sad sort of tiredness, a nearly direct opposite of the face he put on when there were people to entertain. 

“I’m scared that I don’t deserve you,” Dan whispered, after a while. “And a part of me wants to leave you, because I know that I’m nothing compared to you. But the other part of me never wants to leave, ever. Never wants you to leave, either.” 

His words felt clumsy in his own mouth, but he said them anyways. Because he promised himself years ago, that Phil would be the one person he would always tell the truth to, no matter how twisted. He realized then that his life before Phil was only lies, lies piled upon lies that he told himself, that he told the people around him. And that was the life he lived, sitting on a throne made of nothing. 

But then Phil came along, like some sort of prophecy, at the darkest time in Dan’s short life, like a glow of light, of hope and promise. One promise, and that grew into this.

“I know I shouldn’t be here. But I am, because of you, and there’s nothing I can do to make that up. So maybe I shouldn’t have you at all.” Dan’s voice cracked. “But God, Phil, I want to.”

Phil wiped his face with an open palm. “Do you really think that?” he asked finally, blinking up at Dan.

“What?”

“That you don’t deserve me? That I don’t deserve you?” Phil swallowed. “Because you’re everything I have, Dan. Everything I’ve had for almost ten years now. I would do anything for you, you know that, right?“

Dan felt something in his chest flutter. He didn’t know if it was fear or love. Maybe it was both.

But before he could respond, Phil went on. “And I’d do anything to make you happy again. But there’s nothing I can do except be here, with you, and wait. But I’d wait a thousand lifetimes just to see your smile again.” His voice wavered at the end, but he held strong. “I hope you know that.”

Dan realized then, that Phil was a poet at heart; that’s what he always had been. A dreamer, of a better world, a brighter future, a new tomorrow. A guiding light in the longest of tunnels. A believer.

“You love me,” Dan whispered, almost as if he was just figuring that out now. 

“ _Yes_. I love you.” Phil ran his sleeve under his nose. “I love you so, so much.”

Dan nodded then, small and soft, brown eyes wide and sad and full of a subtle kind of despair. 

“And I don’t care what’s in your head. All that... all that shit can fuck off. I love you despite what you’re telling yourself, and I’ll say it over and over again until you understand.” Phil’s sad eyes seemed to stare right into Dan’s soul. “I love you.”

Dan nodded again, and inhaled shakily. It was as if a weight had been lifted. He finished his glass and set it back down onto the table, then looked up to search Phil’s eyes again. All he found was love.

“I’m unsure about a lot of things in life, Dan,” Phil whispered. “But I’m not unsure of you. You’re my constant— you’ll always be here. I need you to always be here.”

“I will,” Dan breathed, and leaned forward finally, closing the gap slowly. Finally, their lips touched, and it tasted like fear and sadness but also hope, and most of all, promise. 

Salty tears tracked down Dan’s cheeks, and when they pulled away, Phil wiped them with his thumbs. “It’s all going to be okay,” Phil whispered, hardly over a breath. “I love you. We’ll pull through. I promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank u for reading this! Please let me know if u liked it


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